


a kind of push & pull

by slyther_ing



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Let Marcus Flint Bottom 2K17, M/M, No Angst, Panties, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Rimming, no angst whatsoever can you believe that, plot as in theyre in love and its all very soft, there's so much trust in between them tbh thats so important, well kinda plot but barely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 10:20:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9651686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slyther_ing/pseuds/slyther_ing
Summary: The night starts off with a surprise, and Oliver could never deny himself ofthat.In which they're in love. In which they know how to take each other apart in the best of ways.





	

Oliver can feel the soft intake of breath when he runs his hands over Marcus’ shoulders, cashmere of Marcus’ sweater pleasant underneath his fingertips. He presses a kiss to the side of Marcus’ neck, feels the pulse beating quickly underneath the skin. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Marcus grumbles, “Just – get on with it, will you?”

“Bossy,” Oliver clicks his tongue, but he’s grinning as he takes his sweet time peeling the sweater off of Marcus, hands roving appreciatively over his boyfriend’s sculpted torso.

Sometimes he jokes its Marcus’ best feature.

Marcus usually shoots back with “Yours would be your mouth, when it’s shut.”

Marcus fidgets impatiently between his legs, urging Oliver to speed up the process of undressing him, but Oliver has his own plans – it’s Friday evening, they both don’t have anything to go to, for once, and he’s going to take all the time he wants to take Marcus apart.

Once the sweater comes off, Oliver litters a scattering of butterfly kisses over the tantalizing expanse of smooth skin, hands crawling forward to circle Marcus’ waist, finger’s trailing up and down his abdomen. Marcus shifts, sighs – resigned to waiting for Oliver to do what he wants, but Oliver isn’t fooled – with every brush of his hands, Marcus relaxes further against him.

“Hard week.”

Marcus hums, eyes closed. He responds eagerly, however, when Oliver nudges his head to kiss him properly, pulling lightly at Oliver’s bottom lip. Oliver can’t help a groan from building in his throat at the sensation, but Marcus pushes him away with a smirk.

“Hurry up.”

Oliver huffs. “I’m making progress.”

“Well, not quick enough,” Marcus complains, dragging Oliver’s hands up to his chest, and Oliver takes the invitation in stride, fingers pulling and twisting expertly on his nipples, until they’re hard and peaked. Marcus grins, arches into his touch. “Getting somewhere.”

“You’re kinda antsy today, aren’t you?” Oliver says, dragging his teeth along the line of Marcus’ bared neck and he’s rewarded with a quiet groan.

“Maybe I have reason to be.”

Oliver pauses, taking a couple seconds to refocus on the words. “Marcus—”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Marcus says, rolling his eyes, and he rolls out of Oliver’s grasp, rearranging himself until he’s on his back and leaning up on his elbows, “Keep going.”

He raises an eyebrow. Oliver takes that as a challenge.

Oliver crawls up the length of the bed until they’re hovering face to face, before leaning down and delving into Marcus’ mouth again – and this time it’s wet and messy, filled with teeth and tongue, Marcus giving back as harshly as Oliver is enacting it.

“Better.” Marcus grins, teeth sharp, chest heaving when they finally part. Smug bastard. Oliver curls his fingers in Marcus’ hair and tugs his head back, moving to suck and bite at Marcus’ neck hard enough to leave a lovely purple mark.

With a quick tug, Oliver’s shirt has been thrown to the side, and Marcus’ hands are already diving towards his jeans. But Oliver’s faster, this time, and pins his arms down to the bed.

“Nope,” Oliver laughs, “Not tonight, Flint. You first”

Marcus looks disgruntled, but doesn’t protest. “Fine.”

Oliver sees the beginnings of a faint blush spreading from Marcus’ face down to his chest, like it always does when he’s embarrassed, but he’s already reaching for Marcus’ trousers before he can think twice about it. He pops open the fly, tugging the waist down, making Marcus’ hips shift upwards minutely. But then he has to stop and takes a breath because –

Oh.

Marcus is wearing panties. Marcus is wearing _panties_ and Oliver feels his cock twitch, rapidly hardening, because this was _not_ expected, at least not tonight. The lace trim and the smooth silk and Marcus’ cock, pressed up underneath the waistband, are laid bare for him to see and holy _shit_ – “You got new ones,” Oliver manages and Marcus shifts underneath him.

“Yeah,” Marcus looks slightly nervous, “Y’know because. Because I figured – you liked it. Last time.”

Last time, Oliver had suggested it as half a joke, because he’d always thought it’d be hot. What he hadn’t expected was for Marcus to actually take him up on the offer, with a shrug of “Try everything once, right?”, which resulted in Oliver buying the first pair he could find in Marcus’ size and appreciating the view. Until he couldn’t help it anymore, of course, and they’d fallen into bed eagerly, panties torn and thrown somewhere across the room.

But he’d thought that was a one-time thing, a just-for-kicks for Marcus.

Except now Marcus has a high blush on his cheeks and is swallowing harshly. And he’s _hard,_ rigid line of his cock evident through the thin fabric of his underwear.

“Fucking hell,” Oliver’s voice is hoarse, pulling off Marcus’ trousers so it’s just the small slip of fabric now, and he touches the waist reverently, “Damn, Flint.”

They’re a light blue, striking against Marcus’ complexion and they frame long, toned legs, wrap around Marcus’ hips like a perfect fit. Tight like a second skin, leaving nothing to the imagination, and Marcus looks so damn _good_ there, splayed out on the bed, quietly appraising his effect on Oliver.

“The last pair you chose were shitty,” Marcus snorts, smugness back in his voice at Oliver’s obvious arousal, “So I got better ones.”

“Silk ones.”

Marcus palms himself and Oliver groans at the sight. “They feel fucking good.”

And that’s all it takes for Oliver to straddle Marcus, kissing him harshly and reverently because Merlin, is he lucky. Marcus’ hands knead his ass, and Oliver rolls his hips down, shivering with delight at the resounding moan that wrings from Marcus’ lips.

“How long have you been wearing them?” Oliver hisses, and Marcus laughs against his lips.

“After practice,” Marcus tilts his hips up imploringly, “I’ve been fucking ready since then, Wood, so get – a – move – on.”

Oliver doesn’t need to be told twice.

He happily attaches his lips to Marcus’ collarbone, worrying at a spot until another mark blooms to his satisfaction. And then he slides downwards, licking a path over the ridges and dips of Marcus’ torso.

Marcus groans when Oliver mouths at his hip bone. “Get your mouth on me, _now_.”

Oliver clucks his tongue, grinning at Marcus’ disgruntlement. “I’m getting there, sweetheart.”

He traces his tongue over the edge of the panties, where lace trim meets tanned skin, and gets giddy at the shiver it elicits from the man underneath him.

“ _Wood_.”

Oliver lets his mouth ghost over Marcus’ cock, teasingly light, makes Marcus groan at the puff of hot breath he exhales. He’s thrumming with anticipation – it’s taking all of his self-control not to just turn Marcus over and fuck him hard and fast.

He teases the tip of his tongue over the ridge of Marcus’ erection, and the silk is funny on his tongue – not unpleasant, but definitely different. But Marcus’ hips shift upwards at the touch, and when Oliver glances up he sees Marcus biting his lip.

Restrained. Well, that won’t do.

He seals his mouth over Marcus’ cock, mouths over the silk of the panties, and that wrings a moan from Marcus’ lips. The head of Marcus’ cock, Oliver realizes, is wet with pre-come already, and Oliver curves his hands under Marcus’ ass, lifting his hips up further so that Marcus can’t move away from the stimulation, even if he tried.

“Wood,” Marcus says again, except this time it’s low and breathy and the effect is so damn erotic that Oliver has to close his eyes, focus on what he’s doing with his mouth and staunchly ignore the way his cock is aching in his jeans. “C’mon.”

“I’m not going to blow you.”

Marcus has his head turned to the side, and the pillows muffle his groan of frustration. “Then what the fuck are you—”

“I’m going to eat you out. Get your hole nice and wet for me, stretch you open,” Oliver licks his lips, and he almost doesn't recognize his voice – low and rough in a way that makes Marcus stare at him with lust-blown eyes, “And then – then I’m going to fuck you”

Marcus swallows visibly, chest and cheeks flushed and Oliver thinks that he’d like to keep Marcus like that forever. In bed, waiting for him to take him apart.

“Well,” Marcus exhales, “Better get to it then.”

Oliver grins.

He snakes his fingers along Marcus’ waist, teases them down Marcus’ ass, relishes how the curve fits his palm so perfectly. There’s a moment of conflict in which he can’t decide – panties off? On? And then he makes a compromise.

“Turn over,” Oliver commands, and Marcus doesn’t even bother to glare at him, already shuffling onto his knees, ass up. Content bubbles in his chest, along with excitement – Marcus is already so riled up he’s not even willing to talk back.

Merlin, this is going to be fun.

“Oliver, _c’mon_.” Marcus’ head hangs between his arms, and Oliver keeps him there, waiting for just another second more, until he starts to squirm, and then Oliver reaches forward to pull aside the silk and traces his finger lightly over Marcus’ hole.

It earns him a hastily muffled groan. He leans in to lick a long stripe, from Marcus’ balls to just above the dimples above his ass and that, that causes a quiet moan of contentment. Wonderful.

“So perfect, Marcus,” Oliver murmurs, unable to help himself from praising the way Marcus reacts, the way his back is arched just so, the strong lines of his back. “So good for me.”

Marcus’ hips twitch, as if urging Oliver to get a move on. He leans in, mouths at the soft skin of Marcus’ ass, lets Marcus get impatient again, and then goes in for what he wants, what he’s wanted to do for ages, even before he knew that Marcus had a surprise for him tonight.

Oliver lathes his tongue over Marcus’ ass, then stiffens it to a point, breaching that tight entrance. Marcus’ sharp intake of breath shoots right to his cock, and Oliver laments the fact that he doesn’t get to watch from this angle, doesn’t get to see Marcus’ face smoothed over in pleasure. It’s a pity, but pleasure comes with some sacrifice.

Marcus taste like him, cleaning spell taking care of sweat and soap, and Oliver loves how it’s just Marcus’ skin, Marcus – all for him in the barest of ways. He reaches forward, strokes Marcus’ cock through the thin fabric of his panties and Marcus ruts into his palm, as if unable to decide whether to push back against Oliver’s tongue or into his hand.

He goes at it – a jab of his tongue, an enthusiastic lapping, a tease of teeth – until Marcus’ arms collapse, until Oliver’s the one holding his hips up and burying his face against Marcus’ ass, until Marcus stops bothering trying to keep his noises down and instead grips at the sheets and writhes at the sensations.

Oliver’s not letting up – he doesn’t want to, could spend hours eating Marcus out, because he loves the way Marcus falls apart – in increments, crumbling slowly, until all the tension seems to seep out of his body. Loves the feeling of Marcus’ ass in his hands, flexing with each wave of pleasure.

“Ollie,” Marcus slurs, turning half-lidded eyes back at Oliver over his shoulder. His hips rut against the mattress as Oliver circles his hole with a lubed finger. “Need you.”

“Need me to do what?”

Marcus mumbles something against the pillow.

“C’mon, Marcus, you gotta tell me,” Oliver laughs, ignoring the way his cock is pressing up against his fly, and he’s so hard he hurts, wants to be buried in that tight ass ten minutes ago. “You want me to fuck you?”

He works the tip of his finger past the rim of Marcus’ hole, almost loses his head at the tight heat of it all, but Marcus’ low whine keeps him grounded. “You want me to fuck you?” Oliver repeats.

This time it’s Marcus who laughs. “Thought that was obvious.”

Oliver crawls back up to kiss his boyfriend, and Marcus responds eagerly, rutting his hip against Oliver’s still clothed thigh. He’s hard and leaking, making a mess of his underwear, and Oliver feels the silk soaked through when he reaches down to stroke Marcus, once, twice.

“You’re going too slow,” Marcus complains, even as he bares his neck for Oliver to pepper kisses down it, “So _slow_.”

“Don’t wanna rush this,” Oliver murmurs, except then Marcus’ hands are on his waist, unbuttoning and unzipping and shoving his jeans down his thighs and Oliver doesn’t have the willpower to stop him, this time. When his cock is finally released, they let out simultaneous groans.

“You’re not, obviously,” Marcus reaches for the lube, that's managed to roll up the bed, and begins to slick up Oliver’s cock and Oliver has to close his eyes at being touched after so long, “Make me feel good.”

It’s as much a command as a request, as much a bratty comment as Marcus playing into Oliver’s need for praise, and Oliver kisses him again, sweetly, before tugging the panties away from Marcus’ ass and thrusting two slick fingers in unceremoniously.

Marcus moans against Oliver’s mouth. Oliver nips at his bottom lip in encouragement, starts scissoring and thrusting, in, out, until he feels Marcus relax around him. He crooks his fingers up, in search of that spot, and it only takes him two tries before Marcus’ hips jolt, the man throwing his head back and muttering a string of curses under his breath.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah –” Marcus chants, “Fuck, baby, you’re so good with your hands.”

The praise rolls down Oliver’s spine, makes his breath catch, makes his cock throb from being untouched. “Yeah?”

Marcus hums, eyes closed and lashes dark against his cheek. “Know my body so well.”

Oliver preens, tries a third finger, relishes the way Marcus opens up slowly for him. Loves the way Marcus is so relaxed underneath him, content amongst their soft pillows and sheets and Oliver loves him so _goddamn_ much, he feels like he can’t breathe when Marcus moans at another press of his fingers.

Marcus looks at him from under his lashes, as if reading his mind. “In me, Wood, if you don’t get in me right now –”

He’s cut off by a harsh thrust from Oliver’s fingers, groan loud in the room. “Be patient.”

“Like you can wait any longer.” Marcus huffs, chest rising and falling in quick pants as he pushes himself down on Oliver’s hand, cock leaking where it’s still confined by his underwear.

Oliver withdraws his fingers and replaces it with the head of his cock, teases the head along Marcus’ rim. “You’re right, for once.”

He thrusts in, slowly, needs to take deep breaths to compose himself at the heat and tightness of it all, at the way Marcus is staring heatedly up at him, at the way Marcus’ cock is hard and red and blurts a little pre-cum at the press of Oliver’s hips.

Marcus trembles underneath him, arm thrown over his eyes, a litany of “ _fuck_ ” and “ _Oliver_ ” and “ _so good_ ” dripping from his mouth.

The feeling of his cock in Marcus stops being so dizzying after a while, and Oliver starts building a steady rhythm, as Marcus rolls his hips in accordance.

“You’re so good, baby,” Marcus groans, eyes still screwed shut, “Sweetheart, you fuck me so good.”

Oliver can’t help his own moan from escaping, as the words drift over him and he stares at where he’s thrusting into Marcus, at the slight strip of pale blue silk pulled aside so he can fuck into Marcus’ ass. Watches the way Marcus’ abs clench with every roll of his hips, admires the flush spreading down his boyfriend’s chest and the way the panties are now clinging to Marcus like a second skin, obscene, from the sweat and the pre-cum.

He adjusts the angle of this thrusts, and then Marcus moves to grip his hand as he aims, straight and true, for Marcus’ prostate.

“Oliver,” Marcus groans, “Oliver, yes.”

Oliver leans down, bites at Marcus’ collarbone, noses at the beating pulse under Marcus’ skin as his thrusts pick up speed. “Tell me how good you feel.”

“So – _oh_ – fucking good, Ollie, baby, so fucking good,” Marcus responds immediately, muttering praises against Oliver’s forehead, and Oliver feels the heat uncoiling in his stomach, from everything – Marcus’ words, the soft moans, the way Marcus is wrapped around him, hot and tight and perfect, wearing motherfucking blue silk _panties._

His thrusts pick up speed, get sloppy and harsher, because he wants to see Marcus come.

Oliver reaches up, rolls an erect nipple between his fingers and Marcus – Marcus whines. “You like this, don’t you?”

Marcus stares up at him, eyes blown and hazy. He nods.

“Like how I’m the only one who can take you apart.” Oliver thrusts harder, making sure to graze by Marcus’ prostate every time. “I’m the only one who can take you apart, right? Only one you’d do this for. Only one that you’d wear those panties for, wait for me, hard and desperate.”

His dirty talk is rewarded by a hoarse moan, Marcus lacing their fingers together as he clenches down tighter on Oliver’s cock.

“You know you are,” Marcus pants, and there’s almost a smile dancing on his kiss-stung lips.

Oliver laughs, breathily, mouths a long stripe up Marcus’ neck. “You’re such a sap.”

“You started it,” Marcus retorts, but his snarky reply is covered up by another loud groan, because Oliver stills and ruts his hip in deep. “F-fuck.”

“Don’t be cheeky,” Oliver clicks his tongue.

Marcus tugs him down by the neck, mouths at his jaw. “Prat.” He shoves his hips downwards, takes Oliver in deeper.

Oliver forgets his retort at the feeling, at how much pleasure is coursing through his system right now. But then he catches Marcus’ pleased grin, and resolves to wipe it away until Marcus is panting and crying out in pleasure.

He lifts Marcus’ hips higher, and the new angle takes Marcus by surprise, grey eyes blown wide at Oliver’s next thrust, and then Marcus is gripping at the nearest pillow, head tossed back and dark hair mussed against the white sheets.

“Who’s laughing now, Flint?” Oliver worries a mark at Marcus’ neck, pleased as a mark blooms – red enough to last for a while, not enough to bruise.

Marcus only responds by biting into his bottom lip, in an attempt to muffle his noises.

Oliver watches, drinks in the sight; Marcus with his eyes fluttered shut, brows drawn in pleasure. Loves how it looks like their bodies are made for each other, the slick slide of his cock into Marcus so natural and beautiful, especially with the lines of Marcus’ body, moving fluidly in tandem with his every thrust.

A particularly long press of his hips has Marcus arching off the bed.

“Ollie,” Marcus pants, breaking Oliver out of his reverie, “Baby. Let me come, c’mon, I want to come on your cock, Ollie, I know you want to come in me, I want you filling me up –”

And Oliver can’t deny Marcus anything, really, reaches down to stroke Marcus’ cock through the silk of his panties, runs his finger through the slit of Marcus’ cock head just like he knows Marcus likes.

“M’ so close, baby, you’ve got me so close,” Marcus moans and Oliver shuts him up with a harsh kiss, plunders his tongue messily into Marcus’ mouth as his hips pick up speed, and Marcus is twisting and panting under him, own hips bucking in response to the onslaught against his prostate.

Fuck, it’s amazing – Oliver shudders, feels like he’s about to burst when Marcus tightens around him, feels his balls draw up, heavy, as Marcus reaches down and frames the hard line of his cock between two long fingers, obscene in the way the silk of his panties clings to it. 

“Come for me,” Oliver says, and then Marcus does – with a shout of Oliver’s name, he paints his own stomach with streaks of white, tightening so deliciously on Oliver’s cock, shaky moan ringing throughout their bedroom.

It’s beautiful, watching Marcus come undone, unrestrained, like this.

“Fuck,” Marcus pants, eyes still blown and panting as Oliver continues thrusting into him, “Come in me, you want to, I know you do.”

Oliver grips Marcus’ thighs tight at that, allows his hips to fall out of rhythm, thrusts wildly, and when Marcus repeats himself, that's it.

His orgasm hits, heat and fireworks coursing under his skin as he ruts into Marcus, spills into his ass, goaded on by Marcus’ moans of encouragement. The seconds seem to stretch on, until Oliver finally comes back to himself and his lungs don’t feel like they’re going to burst from the high of the pleasure.

Marcus guides his face down, presses a bruising kiss against his lips and Oliver moans into his mouth. They kiss as the minutes stretch on, until Oliver remembers he’s still holding Marcus’ hips tightly, and that the panties probably aren’t that comfortable, now that their sweat and come are drying on their skin.

Marcus grimaces when Oliver pulls out, but the discomfort fades quickly enough, and Marcus shoves his underwear off.

Oliver takes his time with a warm towel, runs it over Marcus’ entire body until he’s all clean and then some, enjoys the way Marcus’ muscles are relaxed under his touch and the lazy way Marcus stretches whenever something feels good. It’s only after that, that they collapse against one another, a tangle of sore and satiated limbs.

“Ruined another pair.” Marcus sighs, eyeing where his underwear is now resting in the hamper. He runs his fingers through Oliver’s hair.

Oliver rolls his eyes. “You’re the one who wanted to.”

“Please,” Marcus snorts, “You should’ve seen yourself.”

“Big talk for someone who just got their brains fucked out.”

Marcus huffs, but when Oliver leans in, he accepts Oliver’s kiss easily, nothing in his eyes except for a hint of exasperation and ten times the fondness.

**Author's Note:**

> They deserve happiness and trust and all things healthy and good, tbh. A big shoutout to [marcusflintwood](http://marcusflintwood.tumblr.com) for letting me run with this idea. 
> 
> And, as per usual, feel free to join me on [Tumblr](http://mxrcusflint.tumblr.com) for more Flintwood and HP rare pairs.
> 
> Thank you for reading!!


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